


realignments

by Cadensaurus (orphan_account)



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cadensaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Chad comes to visit Matt, they ply themselves with alcohol, and boundaries are changed and re-established</p>
            </blockquote>





	realignments

**Author's Note:**

> first chevadus fic i ever wrote

“Chad,” Matt begins with a lazy smile, leaning back on his elbows where he’s stretched out on the couch, while Chad sits next to him on an armchair, “I have a question.”

Chad watches as Matt cranes his head back to look at him, eyes gleaming. They’ve had three shots each, Chad choosing to drink cherry vodka and Matt going for peach schnapps. Matt’s not nearly drunk enough for this look in his eyes and Chad raises his eyebrow at Matt, quirking his lips.

 _What are you playing at_?, his expression reads clear as day. Matt shrugs and sits up, twisting as he does so that he’s facing Chad. He reaches for his bottle of liquor and throws back a swallow, literally throws his head back as he takes a long pull, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Chad,” Matt begins again, smiling now. “I’ve got a very important question.”

Chad snorts faintly. “That has been established.” He answers. “You should probably ask it.” He reaches for his own drink, suddenly feeling shy as Matt trains his eyes on him again. He’d flown out to visit Matt because honestly, Matt is one of his closest friends and he misses seeing him just at conventions usually so yeah, he’ll make the visit.

Matt’s been almost _affectionate_ with him since he arrived, an arm thrown casually over Chad’s shoulder at sudden moments, offering him a drink or a snack with a casual bump of the back of the hand to back of the hand and no apology. His space has suddenly gone from “Chad space” to “Chad and Matt space” and while it’s strange, it’s not uncomfortable.

Matt pauses before continuing. “Have you heard our ship name?” He asks and Chad heaves a sigh, stares at him, almost glares at him, laughing even as he does.

“Yeah, I have, what the fuck are you even asking me for,” he groans, reaching for the bottle. “And if we’re having this conversation of any sorts, I need this.”

Matt rolls his eyes, giving Chad an expression that plainly reads, _really? are we this immature?_ and no, we’re not, but Chad would certainly do this to keep up appearance at a convention or a vlog and while they’re in private now, it’s instinctive. So as a compromise, he takes a half-shot, putting the bottle down.

“Chevadus,” he mumbles at Matt. “So what’s your point? Is that your question? Because that was a waste of a perfectly good question.”

“Fuck a perfectly good question, that wasn’t it at all,” Matt answers. “What are your thoughts?” He reaches to drink again, quicker than he normally would - definitely quicker, as Chad watches him. He’s drinking to get that buzz and now Chad’s honestly feeling almost trepidation. Matt sober with intentions is a dangerous thing. Matt _drunk_ with intentions is hilarious at the best of times and disconcerting at the worst.

Right now, he’s leaning towards the latter.

“You know, half of it, it isn’t half bad. The gifs, the fanart. The writing - eh, it could have better grammar. Trust me, working on a doctorate, I cringe reading the grammar sometimes.” Matt remarks, almost as if it’s off the cuff, but Chad knows better. Now the gleam in Matt’s eye has him worried.

“You’ve got some point coming and I’m not sure I’m going to like it.” Chad mutters. Matt eyes him and there’s a long silence that hangs between them. Chad almost feels guilty with what he said as Matt watches him, clearly off-set himself.

“Just wondered if you ever thought about it. You know, as a joke or as not,” Matt throws out there. Chad blinks twice because he was expecting something like this.

“Yeah, all the time. Chad and Sev, I think about that. Us making out at a convention in a private room really quick. Aurey catching snapshots of us in private. Beef and Pause throwing us a Mindcrack server wedding.” Chad snarks. Matt lifts an eyebrow at Chad this time. “It was a fanfic prompt. I do look at my tag on tumblr.”

“So what’s your opinion?” Matt asks, fingers wrapping around the neck of the schnapps bottle without lifting it, his middle finger tracing a half-line up and down. Chad gives him a look again, a sigh. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Mostly because it’s crossing a line and they’re both straight.

Except for the fact that Matt has featured in at least two dreams, if not maybe three. He’s not sure on that third, he woke up and couldn’t remember. Except for the fact that he flew out here and Matt invading his space hasn’t been a bad thing. Except for the fact that he’s so used to keeping up appearances and persona that sometimes he forgets how to not and here’s Matt unraveling for him for whatever reason, pushing into a boundary they shouldn’t push, and Chad’s the one resisting and he’s not sure what Matt is doing but he really doesn’t think resistance is the word.

“Come here.” Matt requests, patting the seat next to him. Chad stares, unmoving, and Matt meets his gaze, doesn’t blink. Chad’s eyes water simply watching and finally, after about twenty seconds, he rises and shifts his position to next to Matt.

“Give me that,” he orders, taking the bottle from Matt’s hands and if he shivers slightly when his fingers brush Matt’s, that thought’s wiped out the second his mouth touches the rim of the bottle and his brain supplies him with ample thoughts about how Matt’s mouth has been on there and really, _really_ , he is not drunk enough for this.

“So.” Matt says. “You never really thought about it?” He doesn’t look hurt. He doesn’t even look let down. He hides any expression well, to be honest, unless Chad looks for a few seconds too long at his eyes, which he does. And there, Chad sees hesitation. “It’s fucking hilarious!” Matt covers a second later, slipping into his own persona, a bit loud, boisterous, hands emphatic.

Chad’s heart is pat-pat-pattering through his veins when he speaks. “Shut up,” he requests. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Don’t go pretending it’s okay.”

“Pretending what’s okay?” Matt asks, not dropping it. “Nothing’s wrong, I just was asking, especially after that little stunt with your tail plug thing,” he laughs. “That was _great_!” he half-shouts. Chad wonders if Matt’s neighbors hate him sometimes.

“Matt.” Chad’s voice goes flat, odd for him, and they both still. “Stop.” And there’s a drop of pretense from both of them then.

“So you haven’t thought about it, whatever, it’s fine,” Matt starts again and Chad glares, really glares, and he doesn’t know why he’s glaring because he could let this go, he could stay in the dark, they could both stay in the dark and that would be safer, but he’s glaring.

“Maybe I have,” Chad bites out slowly, a whisper of a voice. “Occasionally. I didn’t mean to.” There’s the admission. He watches Matt and Matt is the one to fall silent. Matt stays silent and it perturbs Chad because that’s not Matt. He finds himself at a loss and finally settles for putting a hand on Matt’s thigh, feeling the big muscle in it tense.

“Be careful,” Matt warns him. “Just … be careful.”

“This is where the world drops out,” Chad mutters back. It’s some song lyric that springs to mind, following Matt’s words as a lead. It’s stupid. It’s the only thing he can think of. Except it’s pretty accurate. This is where the world drops out as Matt wraps slim, long fingers around his wrist and starts to lift his hand off Matt’s thigh, as Chad tugs away to run his hand up Matt’s arm and catch a bicep under his own hand, twisting to face him.

“What?” Matt asks, smiling, the smile not reaching his eyes. Chad shrugs helplessly, breathes in long and deep, almost hurts his chest for how deep it is, still feeling Matt’s skin under his, other hand coming to clench in Matt’s shirt.

Matt’s fingers suddenly are in the small of Chad’s back, crawling up his back, trailing across shoulders and finally brushing across the fine hairs at the base of his neck. “This could go so wrong,” he mutters.

“I know,” Chad breathes. “I’m terrified.” He’s shaking almost, and Matt’s skin on his, fingers in his hair and Chad’s hand on his arm still are holding him steady. “You started this.”

“Yeah, I did.” Matt grits out, leaning in, forehead bumping, pressing to Chad’s. The tension is taut between them. “It can be my fault,” he says in a rush. “If it does. It can be all my fault,” and before he can finish, Chad cuts him off.

“Don’t you dare.” It would be so easy to let that be the case but there’s no way in hell Chad would ever do that to Matt. He slides his hand clutching at Matt’s shirt underneath, to soft skin, to abdomen and hip, where there’s the curve, and curls his fingers around it. Matt visibly jumps and his fingers shove into Chad’s hair, tug slightly, eyes locked on Chad, hovering. Waiting.

Chad pushes then, pushes in and pushes them past the boundary, mouth brushing over Matt’s briefly, awkwardly, hesitant and scared, and then Matt’s pulling him in, in two motions he tugs Chad forward half-into his lap and then has his arm cradled around Chad’s back, holding him there.

It’s rough, it should be weird, it is weird but it’s not because ‘Chad and Matt space’ was already a thing and now it’s just more and beside the point of that, Matt is an exceptionally good kisser, he’s got a pliant mouth and he makes the softest noises of contentment, almost like hums, fingers covering expanses of Chad’s body in bursts.

Chad shifts his weight until he’s fully settled into Matt’s lap and deepens the kiss, fingers coming to press against the plush of the couch cushion behind them. “This should be so fucking weird,” he mumbles and Matt nips his lip, making him groan.

“Wanna make you do that again,” Matt growls against his mouth, completely and totally changing the topic and Chad makes a note to talk to him about that later if he has a brain left, because he’s suddenly aware of Matt’s hands under his shirt, one settling against his back, tracing small circles over his spine, the other moving to brush over a nipple, gently pinch and that feels good.

There’s definite arousal on his end and he can feel what has to be the weirdest thing in the world, which is another dick pushing into his ass, where Matt grinds up against him, pulling back to watch Chad, his pupils blown out completely. “Is this okay?” Matt asks and it’s such a change from the forwardness that he’s been exuding all weekend that it throws Chad for a second.

It’s okay, it really is, and Chad lifts himself up because this is going too fast and he’s going to be overwhelmed in the morning but he’s already vowed to not let Matt take blame for this and to be honest, there’s not… blame to be had, just facts that he’s going to have to deal with.

Matt releases him instantly and Chad is confused for a second before letting out a small laugh. “No, um.” Here he falls quiet, shy. And then unzips, tugs off his pants in one motion, kicking them away, trying for sexy and managing goofy as he almost trips.

“Match me,” Chad requests because he can’t be the only one doing this. Matt keeps his eyes locked on Chad as he lifts his hips, undoes his fly, and shimmies his hips out of his pants in a way that is smoother and way more attractive than Chad’s, letting them settle around his knees.

Chad glares at him. “How’d you manage to make that look good?” he asks, even as he’s pulling at the pants, wanting them off.

“That’s the trick,” Matt teases. “Nobody can shake off their pants legs seductively. Get them halfway down, let your partner do the rest,” and Chad stands, holding Matt’s pants, and fairly throws them to the side, pushing back into Matt’s lap and kissing him hard to shut him up.

There’s just the thin fabric of Chad’s boxers and Matt’s boxer briefs between them now, and the fact that Matt is definitely digging into his ass throws Chad’s brain in for a loop. He’s poking out of the hole in his boxers and Matt’s fingers have settled on his thighs, keep running circles, pushing up a little higher each time.

When Chad presses his hand to the back of Matt’s neck, leans his forehead to Matt’s, he can feel the faint beading of sweat. “Nervous?” He asks and Matt nods.

“As if I could be anything but.” Chad’s about to retort, _what do you have to be nervous about_ but really, Matt couldn’t have known they would do this and he’s pretty sure, like 99.7% sure he’s going to be Matt’s first for a guy.

“Shirt,” Matt pants, and Chad strips himself of it, throwing it to the side, and suddenly Matt’s pushing at his boxers, until Chad’s naked in Matt’s lap and Chad, because he’s not going to be the only one exposed, yanks at Matt’s shirt and hears the faint snap of a couple of seams as Matt scrambles to get out of it.

“Shit, Chad,” Matt laughs. “Slow down.” Chad gives him a dirty look.

“Really? I’m naked in your lap thanks to your own doing and you’re telling me to slow down.” It’s not a question and Matt starts laughing, really laughing, face pressed into Chad’s chest, breath hot and muffled, and it’s intimate. Chad strokes his fingers through Matt’s hair almost impulsively.

“You’re an asshole,” Chad comments. Matt leans against Chad’s touch and with some maneuvering, works his way free of his boxer briefs and then they’re both naked and the contact is so much - too much - and Chad stops breathing for a few seconds.

“Yeah, sometimes I am,” Matt admits. “I fuck things up.”

There’s a hesitation to his words and before Chad can think about it, he spills out his own response. “You’re not fucking things up.” He whispers. “I promise.” And there’s the pact he’s making for tomorrow when they wake up and there’s the risk of freak-out, trying to take it back. He won’t take it back. He doesn’t think Matt will either.

He leans in to kiss Matt and tilts back Matt’s head for a better position, sighing faintly into it, and then grabs at Matt when Matt reaches to wrap his fingers around Chad’s cock, stroking slowly. He shifts to kneel, so that he can reach down between them, arm pressing against Matt’s, and matches touch and movement because fuck if he’s going to be the only one out of his element.

Matt almost purrs a noise into his mouth at the touch, squeezing on the upstroke. “Unfair,” he mutters.

“And you’re the picture of innocence?” Chad shoots back, stroking his free hand across Matt’s stomach. He feels Matt tense and relax with each stroke.

“You tickle,” Matt pushes at his hand and Chad moves them to grasp at Matt’s bicep again. “Just touch, keep on touching m-my cock.” There’s the faintest halter in Matt’s bravado. It urges Chad on, if he’s honest, because it’s Matt raw and exposed.

He’s leaking steadily and Matt’s working it along the length of Chad’s cock and Chad might be longer - he’s always prided himself on being longer than average, but Matt’s thicker, and he briefly wonders how Matt would fit in his mouth and that thought is way too forward for tonight, so that’s chased away as he focuses on curling his fingers tighter around Matt’s dick, pushing faster into Matt’s grip on him.

“Getting close,” he warns. “I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so turned on before we even kissed,” he admits. Matt laughs weakly.

“Yeah, same.” He shifts, hips rocking. “We’re pathetic.”

Chad smiles. “We really are,” he breathes, kissing harder, feeling the tension build low, climbing his spine, sinking deep inside him. Matt pulls fast and sloppy and it’s good, really good, and he’s trying to match stroke for stroke but faltering as he gets closer, hands falling away as he curls forward, keening and coming, spattering across Matt’s chest with a low noise.

“Shit, sorry,” he manages to gather his brain as fast as he can, pressing his forehead into Matt’s shoulder, smelling salt and sweat and kissing, tasting it, tasting Matt, sucking at the skin a little stupidly, biting, and that’s what knocks Matt over the edge, making him thrust hard and fast and Chad rides it out as best he can, fingers losing grip momentarily.

His ass and thighs are covered in thin streams of come, sticky, and Matt reaches for his shirt, swiping at them both to clean them up. “Fuck, Chad,” he murmurs.

“What,” Chad mutters fuzzily. “What’d I do?” He settles his weight against Matt because he needs to physically feel connected, to keep him calm.

Matt shrugs. “Just. Fuck. Fuck me. Christ.” He’s almost half-incoherent and Chad gets it and he says as much, kissing again at where he’s bitten Matt. Matt holds him loosely, damp with sweat.

“Gonna freak out later?” Matt asks. Chad nods a little, embarrassed.

“Not gonna take it back though,” Chad answers a second later. Matt huffs a noise that could be a laugh. Chad can see his smile in his mind and smiles back.

“Not gonna take it back either,” Matt tells him. “Kinda … gimme twenty minutes. Was hoping for a repeat.” Chad does laugh at that.

“Filthy pervert.” He says, petting at Matt a little awkwardly. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Not quite what I had in mind but I’m lenient,” Matt whispers in his ear and Chad parses that and yelps.

“Can you give me half an hour to come to terms with the fact that I’m a little gayer than I previously anticipated and just jerked you off before you start insinuating fucking each other?” Chad hisses at him.

Matt pulls back, looks at him with a smile on his face that does reach his eyes, and kisses him slow and deep. “I suppose,” he finally answers after a minute. “An hour even. Or as long as you want.”

Chad’s freaking out right now, okay, but he has a feeling that everything is going to be fine. And he mumbles as much to Matt as he lets Matt cover his skin in kisses, as he strokes at Matt’s skin, as he closes his eyes and loses himself to sensation.


End file.
